Expectations
by Ms.MaraJade
Summary: Post Republic Commando: Order 66. One shot. A future moment in time, shared between Ordo and Besany. Rated T, to be safe.


_Summary_: (Post Republic Commando: Order 66) One shot. A future moment in time, shared between Ordo and Besany.

_Disclaimer_: I make no money. I own nothing. I only write about what I enjoy.

**Expectations**

"You taught me planning was everything, _Kal'buir_."

"I also taught you that you have to seize opportunities."

"You will _not_ put yourself at risk. Your luck's run out. Take a rest. Or you'll never live to see another grandchild."

"You telling me something, son? Is Besany…?"

"No. No, not at all."

-- Personal conversation between Kal "_Kal'buir_" Skirata and Ordo, Former ARC Captain Null-11, 1080 days ABG

**The Skirata Clan Homestead, Five Months after Order 66**

Here it comes again and there's nothing I can do about it. I just have to ride it like it's a wave in the ocean and hope that relief comes soon. I close my eyes and try to see if that eases it any, but now the room begins to spin. Quickly, I grab my head with one hand. Moving in a controlled fall, I land in the dining room chair, instinctively reaching for my stomach with the other hand.

_Take another deep breath_, I tell myself, _just take it nice and slow_. Gradually, I let it out and hope it helps to cleanse away the nausea.

Another wave tries to come, but I use the same technique. This time, I'm prepared with the piece of dry flat-bread. I take a small nibble and force myself to swallow it. I strangely find myself enjoying the bland taste, grateful that it has no flavor or smell. Opening my eyes, I reach for my mug of specially brewed herbal tea. The warm liquid smells like spring flowers with a touch of nectar. Parja, Fi's wife, told me that Mandalorian women don't have time for pregnancy sickness, and for eons the herbal concoction has relieved countless numbers of women from suffering the daily bouts of nausea.

I can't help taking another deep breath, and the scent of the tea reaches my nose. It's almost sickeningly sweet in its aroma, but I take a sip anyway. There's something soothing about the flavor. It's smooth and bland, pleasantly complimenting the flat-bread. The familiar warmth of the liquid immediately settles the nausea, despite how the smell threatens to make me ill.

I take a few more sips, and the mid-morning ritual is over. The nausea has been relieved for another day. I shouldn't have doubted Parja when she made my first cup of the tea weeks ago. She probably had the tea recipe handed down to her from generations of maternal Mandalorians, and she is probably just waiting for her own chance to brew it for herself.

I feel my secretive victory smile cover my face. Overcoming today's nausea is just another one of those small conquests for me. The small victories are the ones for which I feel the most accomplishment. My efforts to get us all here still seem minimal compared to the losses we sustained and the real work that _Kal'buir_ and his sons had done. I suddenly miss Etain, Darman, and the rest, and my grief for them tries to take over, threatening me to feel guilty for having this opportunity when they never will.

A strong hand touches upon my back, and my smile returns as I know Ordo, my husband, was one of the lucky ones. I watch him kneel down next to me, and I take his free hand into mine.

There's that proverbial hesitation of the nervous father-to-be in his touch as I bring our hands to my belly. My stomach hasn't grown much, at least not yet, but I can tell it's changing, as my usual clothes have grown tight from the small bump forming.

"_Ord'buir_," I say softly, but proudly, introducing yet again the new life growing within me to his or her father.

It's been nearly five months since we left Coruscant and almost three months since I discovered this new and wonderful concept that I will be a mother. My Ordo cups the small swell of my belly, and his hand is instinctively protecting the child. His other hand, the one that is still upon my back, he uses to protect me. He becomes a wall surrounding us, refusing to allow anyone who is not on his approval list to enter.

Our eyes meet as we stay in that moment for a few minutes. We are lovers, spouses, friends, each other's world, and eventually we will be parents.

His dark eyes show that nervous spark all expecting fathers seem to exhibit. He is excited to take on the new role of being a _buir_, becoming a man who will love and teach our child. But he is frightened to death of making mistakes and failing in the task. My _riduur_ is not a man who fails, and he never backs away from a good challenge. He will strive as a father, and I see that in his eyes also.

He leans over and touches his lips gently to my forehead. "_Bes'ika_, I think it's a girl."

I laugh softly. Yesterday, he thought our baby was a boy. Still smiling, I ask him, "Does the gender matter to you?"

"Both are raised the same," he replies.

I nod my understanding. Mandalorians do not discriminate how they raise their children. Boys and girls are taught the same survival and existence skills. They both learn how to use weapons and protect the homestead.

"I hope she looks like you," he says wistfully.

For a moment, I study him. His dark hair has developed speckles of gray, and the gray of his temples has grown more pronounced. He doesn't look old, but he's no longer looking like a man in his mid-twenties. _Kal'buir_ insisted that the cure to their accelerated aging is not far away, as there have been significant breakthroughs in deciphering the genetic code the Kaminoans had used when creating the clone army of the former Galactic Republic.

"What if she looks like you?" I ask, almost in a teasing manner, using it as an excuse to not linger my thoughts on his shortened lifespan.

He shakes his head, firm in his belief that a daughter should not look like him. "_Shab_, _Bes'ika_! Don't curse her like that."

After a moment, Ordo realizes that I mean it in jest and not in a concrete fact. He breaks a smile and for a brief second, I see the child within him. There's a certain sparkle in his eyes, and it's something only those few of us who really know him are allowed to see. I'm reminded again how fortunate I am to have given up everything I had ever known in my former life to be with the man who means everything to me.

"_Bes'ika_?" I hear him ask gently and softly. "You're crying."

I just realized that his image went blurry because of my tears. "It's the pregnancy," I tell him, not wanting to think about our past anymore. "Sometimes I just cry."

His hands leave my belly and my back to brush the tears away from my face. I am gratefully aware how he has always been so gentle with me. Sometimes I'll never forget that fateful day when I made my choice. I watched Ordo execute a man right in front of me, and he did so only because that man would have harmed me. Ordo could not have that, and he wanted me to be safe. After returning to what was once my home that evening, we said the Mandalorian wedding vows, and I have never regretted it for a moment.

He's not sure how to respond to the fact that I just cry sometimes, and I see the confusion in his eyes. I can tell he's trying to figure out how increased hormones could possibly affect a woman's emotions. It's a puzzle he's not meant to solve. It's a puzzle he shouldn't even be worried about solving.

"Are you sad?" he wonders, concerned now that maybe I have changed my mind about wanting to be a mother.

I shake my head, nearly laughing. I feel giddy, and his endearing concerns fill me with joy. "I've never been happier," I reassure him. "Just enjoy this for the mystery it is. That is what expecting fathers and mothers do."

He seems content with that, knowing that he had begun a journey for which nothing will make sense for nine months. I decide to bite my tongue for now and not get into the mysteries of newborn babies. Sometimes reading too many articles on the holonet or thumbing through flimsiplast books can be overwhelming, and Ordo is not quite ready for that much information just yet. Sometimes, I even wonder if I am.

-- -- -- -- --

_Author's Notes_: The conversation between Ordo and Kal was taken from Karen Traviss' **Republic Commando: Order 66** novel. That conversation stayed with me throughout the rest of the novel and even afterwards prompting me to write this piece.

Equally inspiring is the new Nickelback song "Gotta Be Somebody." I would swear they wrote that song to be the unofficial anthem for the Republic Commando series of novels.

Mando'a Words:

_buir_ -- father

_riduur_ -- husband, wife, spouse


End file.
